Remedy
by awkwardxconfused
Summary: Ah. How atrocious. How atrocious indeed.


**Remedy**

 _Atrocious. Absolutely atrocious._

He could only grip the glass in hand as hard as he could without letting said piece of low-quality material shatter within the confines of his trembling fingers. The amber liquid sloshed back and forth in the glass, teetering way too close to the edge but not close enough to drip down the sides of the glass, coating his fingers in wretched nose-burning sticky fluids. 

"Calm down." A hand rests tentatively on his shoulder, and he could feel the fabric of his coat crinkle ever so lightly. His forehead scrunched up in annoyance and he tried to swat away the unwelcome weight on his left shoulder. 

"Go away." He muttered hoarsely, taking another swig of the vile liquid, pushing the burning sensation down his throat. He could hear more talking, but the voices seemed to become more distant every second that passed. 

A new weight settled onto his other shoulder. He grunted in annoyance. He loathed the hand on his shoulder but did nothing to rid his body of the unwanted touch.

He glared at the hand. Then squinted. Whose hand was this?

 _Where was he again?_

 _Why was he here?_

 _What was he doing?_

 _Who was he with anyway?_

This was all so... _foreign_.

Foreign not just to others, but to him too.

Normally, he was cool and composed – no matter the situation.

 _Ah._

 _How atrocious._

He remembers.

It was now a week after the conclusion of the Winter Cup.

He was at a bar.

And…why was he wearing a suit and tie?

He frowned at the tie, glaring at it with all his might.

It seemed too tight, too suffocating. He tugged at it a little, in hopes of loosening the knot and allowing himself to breathe more.

 _Ah._

Now he remembers.

He was at his father's party.

He was chattering with business associates.

And in the midst of chatter, they had brought up the games.

Their words spoke of sympathy, but their tones were all mocking. His father sounded deeply disappointed, as if he had forsaken the whole family name.

It sickened him to such a degree. He wanted to break something.

 _He was Akashi Seijurou._

He was an _Akashi_.

And an Akashi _never_ loses.

This was simply atrocious.

"Come on." He felt a tug on his sleeve.

 _Ah._

Now he understands.

He was with his team.

Apparently, he called out to them in hopes of remedying the inner turmoil that raged within.

And they had led him to the doors of an overly bright bar.

Now he sits, downing unwanted drinks of high intoxicating levels. Now he sits, pushing down all the bitter and burning feelings down his throat.

Now he sits, on the edge of breaking.

But he couldn't do that.

No.

He was an _Akashi_.

He was _Akashi Seijurou_ for heaven's sake.

He _never_ loses his cool.

 _Ah._

How terrifying it is.

How _terrifying_ it is to see him lose himself.

And he seems to be quite out of it, too.

Maybe he's had enough.

He focused back onto the tugging on his sleeves and finally conceded, silently slinking out of his seat, not without paying for his expenses, and trudged out the door.

Maybe he'd be able to compose himself finally.

The cool late night air embraced him once he stepped foot on the outside. He felt sticky with all the sweat accumulating from the sheer humidity of the packed bar.

But he paid no heed to it.

Instead, he refocused on attempting to get back home.

He did not want to ask to be picked up. No, not today.

Honestly, it was quite atrocious for him to be in such state.

 _How unbecoming of the Akashi heir._

He soon found himself settled in on a bench in a deserted train station. He intended to engage in chatter with his current companions but soon found himself tuning out once more.

Across from him, sitting on a lone bench on the other side of the station, a tinge of blue sat.

A train soon passed by and made its stop, hiding the blue from his sight.

He declined the thought of boarding the train back home already, reasoning that he'd rather compose himself before even thinking of stepping back into his household.

The train departs. And there it is, still across from him.

 _So meek and gentle. So bright and beckoning._

 _It was atrocious. So atrocious that blue so bright._

He could feel his stomach stirring.

He frowned.

 _He broke._

 _And next thing he knew, all he saw was red._

Hours later, a small smirk slid across his lips. He brushed off the imaginary dust from his clothes and deposited both hands into the velvety pockets of his dress pants.

From an outsider's perspective, he seemed like the usual Akashi – cool and composed.

And quite honestly, it was just so.

It seemed he simply needed to blow off some steam. And finally, the crushing weight seemed to be lifted off from him.

 _Ah._

 _Who knew something so atrocious would remedy his raging needs?_

His lips twitched ever so lightly into that of a sinister smile, but it was gone as soon as it came that if ever anyone managed to catch a glimpse of such development, they may think it was just simply a figment of their sleep-deprived minds.

He glimpsed at the sky, noting it was already breaking into its pastel brightness.

 _Ah._

 _How atrocious._

 _So atrocious that blue so bright._

 _How atrocious indeed._

 _Maybe it needed to be remedied too._

 _Ah._

 _Red looks good._

 ****

 **-**

 **A/N:**

 **Well maybe it's just because I wrote this on a weekend just before our exams that it came out like this. Some implications up there. Hopefully, you caught on to what happened.**

 **Oh well.**


End file.
